This story couldn't have been written without eleneripenneth for many reasons, only one of which being that Declan Martin is an AU version of her Declan Shepard who, we realized, belonged in this universe whether we intended him to be here or not.

This immediately follows the events of Intercession, and I strongly recommend you read that piece first before reading this one.

Dec 2, 2184
1300 hours
The Citadel

Staff Commander Declan Martin was on shore leave for approximately twenty-seven minutes before his omnitool buzzed with an incoming email. He stepped out of the flow of pedestrian traffic, absently dropped his sea bag at his feet, and opened the message.

It was Hannah, and her message was only four words long: Do something about Alenko.

Declan shut down his 'tool and closed his eyes briefly. Yes, ma'am. I'll get right on that. Right after I convince the elcor they're lighter than air, ma'am.

Declan shot a brief look up at the ceiling, ignoring the quizzical looks from a pair of passing turians. Lot riding on this one, Amanda. He didn't know exactly what else Hannah expected him to do beyond what he'd already been doing, and he'd done everything in his power to keep in touch with Kaidan, to check in on him. But Alenko was a stubborn bastard on the best of days.

The fact that Hannah was reaching out to him at all was more worrisome than he wanted to admit. If Hannah was reaching out, that meant Kaidan was stonewalling not only him and his own mother - Declan winced at the memory of how well Ai Alenko showing up and trying to drag Kaidan to grief counseling had gone over - but also John and Hannah. He was effectively cutting himself off from everyone.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the prickle of his buzzed hair against his fingertips, and fought the urge to sigh. He'd long since realized that it didn't help, not with this, not with anything. This wasn't an official assignment, but it carried the weight of one, and more. The weight of friendship. His and Kaidan's. His and Amanda's. His and John and Hannah's.

His 'tool buzzed again, and Declan steeled himself to read another impossible ultimatum as he accepted the text-only message.

Don't forget to come to dinner tomorrow night if you're still on station.

He could feel a smile working its way across his face as he typed out Aye aye, ma'am. But only if John's cooking. Then, squaring his shoulders as he picked up his sea bag again and slung it over his shoulder, Declan marched off in the direction of the Alliance's temporary officers' housing. He needed a shower and time to plan.

x*x

Dec 3, 2184
0700 hours
The Citadel

Kaidan Alenko woke to a gnawing sense of dread that melded with the ever present feeling of loss, and he didn't even need to look at a calender to know what day it was.

It was The Day. A year since the Normandy went down.

A year since he'd lost her.

He had counted every day in the past year by the number of times he thought he saw Amanda out of the corner of his eye, only to turn and see some other blonde, or worse, no one at all. He'd measured nights by the number of breaths it took him to slip into that glorious half-dreaming haze where he could so easily imagine she was still alive and there. His mornings were marked by the gut-wrenching realization that the feeling of her weight in his arms was nothing more than his own wishful thinking.

He rolled out of bed and staggered into the shower, barely giving the water time to get hot before stepping in. He braced both hands on the shower wall and bowed his head under the pelting spray to get his hair wet before scrubbing cheap Alliance shampoo through it. Five minutes and a perfunctory wash later, he was at the tiny bathroom sink, trying not to meet his own eyes in the mirror as he shaved.

Today was going to be a bitch to get through. Not only had it been a year since the Normandy went down, but, he realized, in a macabre way, her death date was the first anniversary they shared. The thought made bile roil in his throat. And everyone was likely to just ignore it. To pretend like it hadn't ever happened, that over twenty people and Commander Amanda Shepard, savior of the Citadel and hero of Elysium had been lost in an attack by an unknown enemy.

Maybe, maybe if they'd been allowed to acknowledge their relationship, it wouldn't have stung so deep. But they'd flaunted regs too hard, too far, for even a sympathetic Anderson or Hackett to be able to save their careers if they'd been brought up on charges. And he needed to be out there, doing what needed doing, because Amanda was gone, dammit, the ship that killed her was still out there, somewhere; colonies were quietly going dark and the second human Spectre needed to do his damn job just as much as the first one had needed to do hers. Maybe moreso.

But Amanda didn't have to do her job alone, a little voice inside his head insisted. Why are you?

Kaidan finally looked at himself in the mirror, and for a moment, wasn't sure he quite recognized the man he saw. Because I am alone.

The surviving crew of the Normandy had been farmed out to far flung posts where they wouldn't be able to gather to commemorate the Normandy going down. Amanda's cousins, who absolutely would have shared a drink with him and who knew exactly what they had been to each other, were currently on active duty and on ships very far away from both each other and the Citadel. At any rate, Kaidan knew, being seen with any of Amanda Shepard's family would have raised questions he definitely didn't want to answer. Alliance brass had asked her immediate family not to grant any interviews, although they wouldn't have in any case. At the most, Kaidan might see a fathomless and possibly sympathetically searching look from Councilor Tevos if he was called to the Citadel Tower on Spectre business, but Tevos' personal biases aside, the Council had been all too happy and all too quick to forget Amanda's death and to shove her under the rug in their short-sighted need to ignore what was happening in the galaxy.

Kaidan finished his shave, wiped the remnants of lather off his chin, and shrugged into a shirt that was a shade too tight over the shoulders and biceps, then belted his jeans with a belt that was fastening a hole smaller than it had before. He frowned down at himself. He'd have to reorder a new wardrobe. Again. Fortunately, his Spectre account took care of what an Alliance officer's clothing allowance didn't.

Breakfast held no appeal. He cooked and ate mechanically, more training and common sense than hunger. Protein. Complex carbs. Electrolytes. Fruit for fiber. It wasn't food. It was fuel so his body would function on the field like the weapon it was.

Anderson had ordered him to rest, and the rest of the Council had backed him, so no missions were available from either Alliance or Citadel sources for at least another six days. Kaidan weighed his options. Reports and research on the Alchera incident - and he'd really have to look into the rumors that the Alliance was planning on planting a memorial on Alchera - or the gym?

He glanced at the stack of datapads sitting neatly on the tiny coffee table in the postage-stamp sized living room. Some of them were scuffed, worn around the edges. Had he really been reading and rereading those reports that much? Kaidan rubbed a hand over his chin. Better question, Alenko. How could you have been reading and rereading them so much and still not have answers?

Amanda deserved answers. And so did he.

Four hours later, those worn datapads still hadn't given him any new answers, and a tension headache was brewing when the comm panel mounted at the front door buzzed. Kaidan ignored it. At least until the insistent electronic chime was replaced by the sound of knuckles actually meeting metal.

Kaidan bit back a curse and dropped the datapad on the table with a clatter. Whoever was at that door, he swore to himself as he surged to his feet and stalked to the entryway, was going to regret it.

Kaidan braced himself with one forearm against the door, the scowl working its way across his mouth stopping in mid downturn when he saw Declan Martin. There was a bulging nylon bag clutched in the fingers of his left hand and a six pack of longnecks in the crook of his left arm. Kaidan could feel the awkward quirk of his mouth as he forced himself to smile.

"Hey, Declan." His throat felt dry and his voice was rustier than normal. "This is a surprise."

"That was actually the plan." Declan's easy smile didn't disguise the sharp intelligence in his eyes. "Thought a visit from a friend might do you some good."

"Sorry. Not real interested in company right now. You understand." Kaidan leaned into the doorjamb briefly before beginning to shove backward, his right hand going to the door panel.

"Well," Declan said, still smiling as he jammed his foot into the doorway then stepped neatly inside, leading with the beer and bag, "then you'll be glad to know I'm not here as company. I'm here to drink and watch some screen with a friend."

Kaidan's company smile faltered for half a second. "Now's not a good time."

"Not a good time for beer and snacks and anime?" Declan indicated the six-pack still cradled in his elbow and the nylon bag dangling from his fingertips with a tilt of his head. "You turn those down, I'm not sure I know who you are anymore."

Kaidan raised an eyebrow and his lips went thin. "Maybe you don't."

"Knock it off," Declan said, raising an eyebrow of his own as he made a beeline for the couch in what was considered the living area, setting the six-pack down on the coffee table and dropping the bag on the sofa before massaging his elbow. "For as long as I've known you, Alenko, you've been bullheaded. I'm used to that. But stupid? That's not something you are."

Kaidan eyed him for a moment, aware of the tension in his jaw and the stiffness of his own posture. Declan simply watched him, clearly ready to wait him out. Eventually, Kaidan sighed, his shoulders sagging marginally. "What do you want, Declan?"

"I told you," he said with a grin. "I'm here to watch anime, let you drink crappy beer, and enjoy a soda while we eat shit that can only be classified as horrible for us." He snatched the bag up off the couch and turned back to the coffee table, the nylon rustling as he pulled out a six pack of soda and a box-set of vids. "I'm on leave, you're on leave... time to get loose and wild, my friend."

Kaidan closed the door and leaned against it. "Would it do any good to argue with you?"

Declan half-turned from opening up the vids. His easy smile made his eyes very green. "Alenko, how long have we known each other?"

Kaidan sighed as he finally approached the couch. "Fourteen long, interminable years."

"Glad to see your sense of humor is returning."

"And yours is as crappy as ever," Kaidan muttered as the couch cushions thwoomped and the leather creaked under his weight. "Fine. Let's watch some screen. What's on the playlist?"

"A classic," Declan said as he pulled a bottle from the six-pack and handed it and a party sized bag of M&Ms over before heading for Kaidan's entertainment center, "about this kid who gets stuck inside a video game. Sword Art Online. It's pretty damn awesome."

Kaidan had the M&Ms open before the beer, and both were ready by the time Declan settled back on to the couch. Declan cracked open a soda and poked the control on the coffee table to start the player, but otherwise respected Kaidan's silence.

They watched half of the first episode before Kaidan found his attention truly sticking to the show. After that, it got easier. A little, anyway. The beer helped, doing a little to blunt the lingering sense of cold that perpetually lived in his chest. The silence between them morphed from terse to companionable somewhere around the second episode and two beers later.

The second episode ended, and there was a moment of stillness before the third started. "You know," Declan mused, eying the mouth of his can, "this is the second time I've done this. First time was actually with Amanda-"

The cold was back, full force. Kaidan felt his spine go suddenly rigid, his shoulders square as if bracing for a blow. "Declan." There was a world of warning there.

"-after Elysium," he continued on as if Kaidan hadn't spoken. "She'd had her world turned upside down, and I couldn't let her go it alone. That's just not what friends do."

"I don't want to talk about it," Kaidan bit out roughly.

"Yeah. I know. Neither did she. So we didn't. We watched some anime, bitched about plotlines and plot holes. Drank a little. Well, she did. Gave ourselves some space to just breathe." Declan took a long swallow of soda and cut Kaidan a sidelong glance. "You're not breathing, Alenko."

"I'm breathing just fine."

"That's the mechanics. I'm talking about living past this."

"I don't want to." Kaidan's hand tightened on his beer bottle, sapphire flickers of light sparking around his fingers. "Even if I had been stupid enough to engage in inappropriate behavior with my CO, you think I'd be fucking stupid enough to talk about it?"

Declan eyed him, and Kaidan wasn't sure if he wanted to hit him or hug him for the sympathy he saw there. "I think you're fucking stupid not to," he said quietly.

Kaidan sagged, all the rigidity melting from his spine, replaced by an almost overwhelming sense of disloyalty. "If I start living past this," he whispered, "it means she's gone. She's really gone. I can't accept that. I can't let that happen. I just... can't forget her."

His friend was silent for a long moment, his green eyes sharp and assessing. "Okay." Declan nodded, set his can on the coffee table, wiped his hands on his thighs, and stood. "Come on. I know what you need."

"Do you," Kaidan said, flatly.

"Yep. A walk. Come on."

"Declan." It was somewhere between a sigh of resignation and a curse.

Declan shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and gave him a small smile. "Look, you can either come with me because I'm your friend and you know I love you, or I can camp on your couch and sing Elizabethan-era tavern songs until you give in." He ducked around the couch and headed for the door. "Your choice."

Kaidan swore ripely and got up to follow. "That's no choice, and you know it."

"It is a choice. Just not one any sane being would make while not very, very drunk." Declan clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go, Alenko."